I've Got an Easy One for You
by PineappleApproves
Summary: "I've got an easy one for you—just black coffee." She never forgot the first words he ever said to her, nor his last: "I'm headed to the asylum tonight. I'll call you back in the morning." After that, nothing. Calling the police would just get him arrested for trespassing. With few options to go by, she boards the next flight to Colorado to find out what happened at Mount Massive.


The road was unpaved, textured by countless tires that had pressed their tracks into the rain-softened mud. It made the ride up to the mountain unpleasant as the car and its driver jostled over the uneven terrain. The path was flanked by grass and short, rolling hills. And to make it worse, the dark of night blanketed everything that the meager headlights couldn't unveil. The hills felt like closed-in walls. The jostling made shadows dance more than they should have. And the darkness that lingered thick just outside the headlights brewed a sense of dread that bubbled deep in the pit of her stomach even before she reached the asylum at the top.

Dad would be so pissed if he'd known where she was now. And hell, the helicopter parent that he was, maybe he already did. Or at the very least he would've known something was up by now. For the hundredth time, she told herself that confiding in him had been a mistake. Of course it was. Dad had always hated Miles.

_"Not answering your calls? Why is he all the way in Colorado anyway? … A story? Sure—no, I don't care if he told you it was a big story! I wouldn't care if he said it was the scoop of the century! You don't need to be flying all the way to Colo-fucking-rado for it! Isn't he a freelancer? It's not like a station sent him. Anna, how do you know he isn't just running around with some other girl right now? I TOLD you that freelancing bullshit he resorted to was a red flag. I TOLD you that boy was a fucking mistake!"_

_ She had heard this angry tirade a thousand times—over and over again ever since the two of them had first started dating. Dad never saw past the freelancing, never saw past the fact that Miles had once been fired by a news publisher. He could never understand that the layoff opened the door to Miles' higher calling. To Dad, 'investigative journalist' was synonymous with 'journalist that commits crime on the daily.' And getting with his own daughter—well that seemed to him the biggest crime of all._

_ But this time the furious words really hit home. Hearing them, combined with the sickening worry that plagued her, burned tears into her eyes. She just knew that something had gone wrong at the asylum. Anna knew that Miles wouldn't have stopped answering for any other reason than that because she understood him even if Dad didn't understand—refused to, even._

_ A quiet, urgent, "Dad, stop," from Rosie was the last thing she heard before she left the house. Thank God for Rosie. Her sister was the only reason she even visited her parents' house anymore. She was the source of support Anna had always sorely needed in her life._

_ But even then, Rosie couldn't help this time. Anna left her parents' house and went to the only place she could call home—that little apartment in Meadows Park that she had moved into four years ago at Miles' suggestion. But now half of it was missing, and the homeliness was gone._

The glare of the headlights reflecting off of the enormous sign shook her from her thoughts. There they were, letters painted in bold to greet her: MOUNT MASSIVE ASYLUM. It was irrevocable evidence that she was really here and there was no turning back.

The road gave a sharp turn to the right to one final ascending slope and… and there it was. Sitting atop the mountain, its large structure and numerous windows making it look like something out of a Victorian-era ghost story. That dread before? It was nothing compared to what that building invoked in Anna now.

Her foot eased down on the brakes, bringing the rented car to a gradual stop by the security post. It was empty. No one was there to raise the barrier. Well, no matter—the asylum was right there. It was time to abandon the car and travel the rest of the way on foot.

A twist and a sharp yank pulled the key from the ignition, cutting the car's engine dead. As much as she didn't want to, Anna shut off the headlights. Thankfully it wasn't entirely dark. A piercing beam came from the spotlight stationed on the roof of the security post. Even then, it was as though its light was on the verge of being strangled by the ever-looming darkness. Anna wasn't able to shake the feeling that she couldn't ever stray from the light here. God forbid she find herself without it, otherwise… _something_ would get her. She didn't know what. It was a childish fear, really, born from imagination. But something here made it real.

Stepping out of the car, Anna shut the door as gently as she could. She pressed the lock button on the keys, causing the vehicle to give a shrill chirp that made her heart jump, before slipping them into her jean pocket.

The occasional mountain breeze tussled her hair, pulling strands of ashy blonde hair from her loose braid. Catching in the wind, dead cracked leaves were lifted from the pavement and drifted across the ground, eerily mimicking the sound of rattling whispers. She slipped around the barrier and walked slowly towards the tall metal gates—

—Which became the first sign that something was terribly wrong. Anna slowed as her eyes took the sight of them in.

The left gate was standing. It had been an illusion that all seemed normal. But the right gate was missing… no, there it was on the ground like something had rammed it down. And as her eyes drifted up into the courtyard, she saw that it was thick with armored trucks.

Anna stopped in her tracks. If the military was here… Oh God, Miles! Where was Miles? Amidst the trucks, Anna scanned the smaller cars. She didn't know whether to be relieved or worried when she saw that the red Jeep Wrangler wasn't among them.

Ironically, she longed for the sight of it. The Wrangler would've been a small bit of comfort in this desolate place. Miles had fallen in love with it the moment he saw it in the sales lot. But although an investigative journalist's commissions were enough to pay the bills, it was stretched thin for luxury spending. He had spent a few more months saving up, driving around in that ratty old Lincoln with its faded paint, until he was finally able to get the financing to buy the Wrangler.

_He'd picked her up in that thing for their first date. "Red Jeep. You can't miss it," he had answered when Anna asked him what to look for. She remembered the nervous excitement with which she climbed into his passenger seat. He complimented the clothes she was wearing, and his flush could even be heard in his voice._

_ From then on, climbing into the passenger side of that Wrangler became as familiar as stepping through the front door of home. The seatbelt took on the permanent smell of her perfume. The compartment underneath the armrest was always filled with her miscellaneous things—a tube of lip-gloss or mascara that she would apply using the sun visor mirror while Miles drove them out to dinner. The foot space was always crowded with a spare pair of her shoes._

_ One day, Miles had stopped by the coffee shop during her break. They sat at one of the tables on the small outdoor patio, talking about Friday night plans. Miles mentioned a drive-in theater that was being set up near the Washington Monument for that evening. "If we get in early, we can nab a good spot," he told her._

_ Anna laughed. "Drive-in theaters are still a thing?" He chuckled along with her. "Sounds fun. I'll bring the popcorn. When does it start?" The date was set, and that evening he picked her up in his red Wrangler._

_ The movie was alright. Anna didn't particularly care for it, though she did enjoy the way Miles had reached out for her hand halfway through the movie and held it until the credits rolled. It was around 11 pm by then, though neither of them wanted the night to end._

_ Instead of having him drive her back to her parents' house, Anna said, "There's a spot right outside the city—about nine miles, with a bunch of hills and no light pollution. I heard you can see the stars really well from there."_

_ "Why not?" The Wrangler's engine started. Traffic to get out of the theater lot was light. They spent the 30-minute drive chatting. Miles talked about the crazy stories he had worked on—the window hopping and close calls with the police. Anna talked about the juicy coffee shop gossip she sometimes overheard and the worst customers she'd ever served._

_ When they reached the hills, Miles parked the Wrangler atop one. He cut off the engine and leaned forward to peer upwards. "You're right," he said. "The sky looks incredible from—." His words were cut short when something was flung into his face. He pulled it off and held it out, curiously examining it. Then he recognized that it was her top. "Anna—?" He looked over._

_ Anna had already opened the door and hopped out. The moon and Wrangler's interior lights illuminated her bare shoulders. She gave a sly smile at his shocked expression. "I'll be in the back," she told him, her voice holding an alluring tease as she played with one of her bra straps. "You can join me if you want."_

_ She had never seen a man wrestle off his seatbelt and scramble into the backseat that quickly._

Movement caught her eye, and Anna quickly looked up to one of the windows. It could have been her imagination or maybe even a tree branch swaying in the wind. Those were two very plausible explanations, but the terrified voice inside her saying that it had been someone in the window was too loud to ignore. Acting on the fear, Anna ducked behind the closest armored truck. She peered around it and watched the window closely. Now there was nothing, but… she was sure she had seen it… seen _something_.

And there was no noise either, apart from the scattering leaves. But when the wind was still, the silence was deafening—like something holding its breath and waiting. Just waiting.

If Miles had gone into the asylum, she ought to find him. But fear glued her in place. It was as though those windows were eyes, and she was too terrified to step into its gaze. And if the military was here, she shouldn't get involved.

But if they had found Miles? A man who wasn't supposed to be there? Anna didn't know much about Murkoff, but based off what Miles had told her, no one dared touch them and for good reason. It could very well be the case that Murkoff would do something awful to him if they got their hands on him. Turn him into a missing persons case that remained cold and led to nothing but dead ends. And what would she even tell the police? That Miles had broken into Mount Massive Asylum? Putting that on record would end his career, not to mention land him in prison for a long time. As much as she wanted him found, Anna couldn't do that to him.

There was no way around it. She felt that if she left now, she would be abandoning him forever. Even if that wasn't the case, it was hard to quiet the panicked, irrational voice inside of her that kept insisting on it.

Slowly, Anna reemerged from behind the truck. She spotted the front doors, wide open and almost beckoning. From here, it was hard to see what was beyond. As she walked up to the steps, she kept reminding herself that what she was doing was dumb. So dumb. So _fucking_ dumb. Then she came to the top of the steps and saw what was beyond those doors.

Bodies. Blood. All over the ground, the walls. Someone dressed what looked like a patient gown was lying facedown in a pool of thick, coagulated red. A man wearing a security guard uniform was smashed against a pillar, chest pressed against the column while his body curved outward from underneath him. His neck had been snapped so severely that despite the angle he was at, the bottom of his chin rested against the pillar. In the center of the reception area was the front desk. One of its monitors was still on, dimly lighting up the slumped form of what was likely another corpse in the chair.

At that moment, the mountain breeze subsided and the pungent odor hit Anna. The nauseating stench of copper and rot was dizzying, and she hadn't even stepped through the threshold yet. And she never would have—with the horrific scene before her confirming her worst fears—had she not spied the badge just a few feet away on the ground.

OFFICIAL PRESS was at the top and bottom of the badge in bold red and white letters. The sight of it, the horrid familiarity of it, was enough to compel Anna to finally hurry through the doors and pick it up.

_Miles Upshur_ was the name on it. Irrefutable evidence that he had been here. And this blood stained on the badge—Anna withdrew her hand in horror when she realized it was on her fingers—oh, please don't let it be his.

Her eyes flew up and quickly scanned the corpses around her. Their faces were covered in blood and malformed by decomposition, but she was looking for that brown jacket. She knew he would have worn it that night, knowing how cold the mountain would be after sunset.

And when she found it? What then? Would it even give her closure to see that jacket stained in blood, worn by a corpse lying facedown in a pool of its own blood or contorted in the worst ways possible? Would she find peace in seeing the way decay sank his eyes in and rotted his skin?

No, let her remember the way he looked before he got into the Wrangler for the 24-hour drive to Colorado. The way his arms tightened around her as he whispered, "Babe, I'm gonna miss you too. Remember that I'm doing this for us."

_For us._ The lead, and the story that could have been born from it, involved Murkoff. Brought to light, the payoff would've been astronomical. He would've been able to afford it, and after five years they would have finally been…

And because of that very reason, he had gone to this asylum. This hellish facility with death and gore on its very doorstep. As much as the sights made her want to leave, one thought compelled her to stay—if she left now, what would she be returning to? A one-bedroom apartment that would feel forever too empty. Inquisitive neighbors used to living next to a couple and wondering what had happened. Day after day of work at that small coffee shop. And when the bell above the door rang, never would it from Miles coming in for his daily cup of black coffee or to visit a particular barista.

And Dad—Dad with his "I told you so." His victory. And Rosie, oh God, her sympathy would just make it worse.

No, Anna wouldn't leave. Not until she found him, even if all she would find was a body. Closure wouldn't be in that; it would be in finally _knowing_.

Looking down, Anna used the side of her hand to wipe the badge clean from blood. It was placed into the pocket of her jacket, which was then zipped close. Something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and the girl recoiled when she realized a dismembered arm was lying on the ground not too far from her. Then, Anna slowly leaned towards it.

She couldn't tell exactly what color the sleeve was in this dim lighting, but it could have been a jacket. Anna crept as close as she could muster to examine it. It might have been brown… or black? And where was the rest of the… the person? Anna looked around, but was greeted by nothing but the rotting carnage that pervaded this place.

She walked around the front desk, throwing a quick, terrified glance at the dead guard behind the monitor. Her shoes tapped soft, muted steps on the dirty tile. The reception area beyond the desk was in worse shape—broken glass and shards of wood littered the ground. Wide splatters of blood and what looked to be bits of entrails foretold of the grisly sight Anna found herself confronted with next.

There he was, and underneath the last functioning ceiling light, she could see that his jacket was indeed black and not brown. Furthermore, it was a blazer. Anna didn't know who he was, but he was in a horrid state. She could only assume this was the largest remaining part of him—a torso, arm, and head. In fact, his spine still trailed out from the torn midsection.

What the fuck had happened to him? How could _anyone_ do this to another human being? To everyone here? And what if they were still here?

She thought she heard a quiet shuffling. It couldn't have been the trees or leaves outside because it had sounded close. Somewhere inside this room. But before Anna could look, a loud bang exploded overhead. She screamed, and the sound was mixed with the tinkling of falling glass from the busted ceiling light.

Anna hadn't just shrieked because of the sound. The terror had also come from the sudden darkness she was plunged in. Her arms flew up and wrapped around herself as though trying to protect herself.

A groaning creak told her the doors were moving. Anna whirled around just in time to see the last bit of the courtyard disappear. The doors gave a hollow clunking sound as they were finally shut in place. Then came the buzz and sharp click of an electronic lock. But what followed wasn't silence. The soft shuffling hadn't stopped.

Anna couldn't see who was there. The only light remaining was from the front desk's monitor, and that was pointed towards her—illuminating her, Anna realized. And whoever was making that noise was behind the monitor and by the shut doors, cloaked in absolute darkness. The shuffling was getting louder.

Terrified, she stepped back. Before Anna could do anything, her foot caught on something. Her cry was brief, cut off when she landed on the ground and something soft—the dead man in the blazer. The parts of her that touched him felt damp with something, and the stench was unbearable. But panic had seized Anna now that she knew she wasn't alone. She planted her palms down on the mutilated body, ignoring the squelch it made as she pushed off of it. Flipping over onto her hands and knees, Anna crawled behind the front desk. Broken glass and wood pressed painfully into the soft flesh of her palms. She brushed past the legs of the dead guard in the chair and huddled into the small space underneath the desk.

Now closer, the shuffling transformed into the pattering of bare feet and rustling of clothes. From under the desk, Anna watched a pair of legs pass by and stop next to the corpse in the blazer—right where she had been. The desk prevented her from seeing who it was, but she saw the hem of a patient gown. The person's entire front was covered in blood.

The legs moved, turning this way and that as if looking around. And then came a soft voice.

"I thought I saw a puddy tat…" The eerie words spoken hauntingly in singsong sent goose bumps climbing up along Anna's arms. Her trembling hands flew up and pressed tightly to her mouth.

"I did… I saw a puddy tat."

Her heart quickened as the legs turned and walked towards the desk. They stopped right next to the dead guard. With the monitor's weak light, Anna could see the blood stained dark on the masculine legs, the rough texture on the scraped knees, and the long, dirty toenails. A long sigh emitted just above her. She saw a hand dip down and rest on the guard's upper thigh, sliding along its length, before perching briefly on the knee. Then it disappeared back above the desk.

Suddenly, there was a loud roar that made Anna flinch. The monitor smashed, and the last bit of light was gone. She heard the patter of feet move away. And then the voice spoke again.

"I saw you… I saw you, puddy tat." In the wide space of the reception area, those words echoed. Anna waited. She waited even when the steps faded. She didn't dare trust her ears. The dull, rapid pounding of her heart sounded just like footsteps.

Then, after what felt like ages and ages, she crawled out from under the desk.

* * *

_**Addendum: Thanks for checking this story out! Feedback is always welcomed.**_


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